


Cold Sunshine

by HiddenTohru



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTohru/pseuds/HiddenTohru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way back to Orzammar, Charlotte has reason to pause and remember her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in February 2010. Title taken from a song by S.J. Tucker.

It had been a rough couple of days. Charlotte felt filthy, every inch of her, splattered with blood, mud, snow from the Frostbacks, and her own body's sweat and grime from not having a bath for two days. They were hiking toward Orzammar, to bring word back to Dagna, and see what other stupid little chores Prince Bhelen wanted them to do, but a blizzard had hit on the first night, and then a group of darkspawn on the second, and she wanted nothing more to do with the Maker forsaken Blight or snow or dwarves, until she could be assured of a soft bed and at least two baths (one before and one after). Behind her she could hear Zevran laughing and Oghren cursing, and assumed they'd started another of their snowball fights. The thought made her grumble. Wynne and Leliana were somewhere further behind them with the others, helping the dwarven merchant get their unwieldy cart through the snow.

Alistair was struggling through a drift of snow not a foot behind her, and she had just turned to ask if he needed any help when she remembered something she hadn't thought of for years. She gazed up at the mountains, small wisps of clouds surrounding jagged peaks that stabbed like knives toward the sky, and it came to her lips. She didn't even notice Alistair coming up to stand next to her as it spun away from her, her voice a little rusty but still strong and beautiful.

It was a song she had learned at a very young age, one of her mother's favorite lays that some traveling bard had sung to her early in her married life. A song about the cold brilliance of the mountains, about the hot blood of the dwarven folk, about the beauty of the ice and snow as it buried you in its deathly embrace. A hard song, and yet lovely in melody and form, so you could almost forget the words and let the melody carry you lovingly to the end.

She couldn't say why she sang, except she had known the song her whole life and never seen the mountains like this before, so cold and clear and so like how the song described them. Tears ran down her cheeks as she sang, remembering her mother and her family and all she had lost since she first met Duncan and set her feet on the road to becoming a Grey Warden.

When the song was over, she felt a hand on her shoulder and started. Alistair's eyes were kind, and he said nothing as he put his arms around her. She relaxed into his embrace, burying her face in the soft shoulder of his cloak, letting him be her comfort then, the one sweet thing she had gained from all the pain she'd experienced so far.

After a few moments, she gently but firmly pushed him away. "I'm all right now. I don't know what came over me, really."

Alistair smiled softly at her. "I didn't know you could sing. That was really lovely, you should do it more often."

Charlotte blushed and looked at her feet. "Well, Leliana is still a lot better than me. I can't sing with her around, you know, I'm just an amateur. I mean, I had a few lessons as a child, but I was always a lot more interested in swinging a sword around than anything else. I just learned that song because it was my mother's favorite. It was written about the Frostbacks, but she said it made her think of Highever more. I don't know if she ever got to see these mountains, though." Charlotte shook her head. "It just... made me remember her." She looked up at him then, curiosity showing in her eyes as she changed the subject. "How about you? Did you do a lot of singing when you were in the Chantry?"

"M-me?" Alistair was caught off guard by the question, and looked embarrassed. "Er, well, a little... I mean, I wasn't that good at it. The choir master said I was tone deaf, but I think he just didn't like me. Not that I minded. Everyone knew what happened to boys that were too good." He blushed. "Not that I was ever in danger of that, I think. Anyway, I didn't much care for most of the hymns they made us learn. The Chant itself isn't so bad, but sometimes I think the brothers who set it to music are tone deaf themselves." His face brightened as he delved deeper into the memories. "Every so often we'd get a traveling bard, though. The Holy Mother disapproved of them, but they were allowed to stay the night, and sometimes they'd play songs for us if we gave them a coin or bit of ribbon or something. In hindsight, they were probably humoring us, but I liked those nights. I liked the songs about knights and fair ladies best, and the Grey Wardens and the war against Orlais." He looked embarrassed again. "I guess that's pretty typical for a boy, though. Anyway, look at me prattling on when we're both standing knee-deep in snow. Let's get on, shall we?"

Charlotte nodded, and they both set off again. She'd forgotten for a brief moment how disgusting she felt, but now she was even more inclined to arrive at Orzammar and have a hot meal and a hot bath and a clean (if not especially soft) bed.

\-------------------------------

Charlotte awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than she would believe was possible in a dwarven bed, but she smiled as she remembered the lengths a certain ex-Templar had gone to to make sure she was... comfortable. The thought of Alistair made her wonder where he had gone, and she was about to call his name when she heard someone humming. Quietly, with grace almost befitting a rogue (and aided by not being in full plate armor), she snuck over to the bathing alcove and peaked around the corner. Alistair was just drying his face over the washbasin and humming happily to himself. The tune was vaguely familiar, but what caught her ear was the richness of his tone. It reminded her of a famous bard she'd heard once, whose voice her mother had described as being "as rich as pound cake". Before she could be caught, Charlotte snuck back to the bed and laid down again, a smile playing on her lips. Maybe her beloved wouldn't admit just yet that he was able to sing, but she would enjoy the sound of his voice a little longer. Maybe after it was all over, she would induce him to sing again_**.**_

 


End file.
